


The War is Over

by dashakay



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-18
Updated: 2009-11-18
Packaged: 2017-10-03 07:20:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dashakay/pseuds/dashakay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Almost everything is gone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The War is Over

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to icedteainthebag for lovely, lovely beta.

**** ****

She wakes just before dawn arrives in Roswell, her arms aching from the phantom limb that is William. Mulder is on his side, sleeping the sleep of a man whose death sentence has been indefinitely stayed. In the shadowed room, she marvels at the twists and turns that have brought them to this motel room in New Mexico.

Almost everything is gone. Her son, her family, her career, her apartment. What remains is either stuffed into a small suitcase or is lightly snoring next to her.

She didn't stop to think when Skinner came to her with the plan, didn't carefully chart the consequences of her actions like she usually does. "Now," she told herself. "Now, just go." And they went and here they are, the two of them.

It's a warm morning, promising a hot southwest day, but she shivers anyhow. Mulder mumbles something in his sleep and burrows closer to her. She runs her index finger down his bare arm, watching him shiver in autonomic response.

"Are you awake?" she hears him say, his voice thick with sleep.

"I am."

He turns toward her. "It's you," he says, wonder in his voice.

"It's me, Mulder." Their noses are almost touching.

"I was afraid I'd wake alone in my cell, that this was all another dream."

"You're not dreaming."

She kisses him, this Mulder who is real and is hers. After all this time, he's here and he's hers.

He's all she has left.

He groans as she kisses him; he slides his warm hands up her pajama top. It's been so long, much too long, and she feels herself getting wet from the slightest touch of his fingers on her nipples, his legs touching hers, his smell, his taste.

"It's just us now," he whispers. "Will that be enough for you?"

She nods. "It always has been, Mulder." It has to be, she thinks.

Night clothes are shed and they are bare before each other's eyes. He gently touches the stretch marks on her stomach and she kisses the scar on his shoulder. She tries to take her fill of him, to relearn the shape and form of his body - the texture of his tongue against hers, the muscles of his arms flexing and relaxing, the sensation of his cock lengthening and hardening in her mouth, the sound of his rapid breathing. She touches herself as he slides and out between her lips, astounded at how it's all come back, like riding a bicycle. Making love with Mulder is like breathing. She could never forget.

She returns to the head of the bed to drape her leg over his hip. She hears herself gasping as he pushes himself into her, filling her to the hilt.

"Yes," she whispers, and buries her head in his neck in an effort not to cry. He strokes her hair like he's soothing a child. His thrusts are gentle at first, almost tentative, as if he's afraid he could break her. She knows what she can take; she's a strong woman. She rolls onto her back and pulls him atop her. She wants him harder, deeper, faster. She wants all of him, right here, right now.

"Scully, I thought we'd never..." he gasps.

"Shut up." Her hand presses against his lips to stop him. She doesn't want to think anymore.

The pleasure blooms in her quietly at first, gentle waves lapping at the edge of a pond, but building to a long, sweet crescendo. She feels her thighs and her arms gripping him as if he's a life preserver.

He stops and looks at her, eyes sleepy but strangely focused. "I'll never leave you again," he says. "Not willingly."

The sobs catch her as he comes deep inside her, his body pushing her into the sagging motel mattress. She wasn't going to do this, wasn't going to spoil their first days back together with melancholy or regret. "It's okay," he whispers, stroking her hair. "It's okay."

She covers her face with her hands, ashamed of her sorrow and her joy.

He kisses her forehead, her cheeks, her eyelids. "Scully, it's all right to cry. Now we need to lay down our burdens. The war is over - at least for a time. We'll get up and fight again, but for now, cry..."

END


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